Dancing With Monsters (38 page)

Still holding his dagger in front of
him, Eli slowly opened his eyes and saw the two remaining Mogs. A
fine, grey, glittering dust covered Eli and the ground around him.
The lead Mog had simply turned to dust. They stood wide eyed with a
baffled look on their face. Eli equally surprised, looked over to
the man standing beside him shrouded in darkness.

“
I suggest you two listen
to this powerful sentry or become dust yourself,” the man said
retreating to the shadows when Eli stepped closer to the
cell.

“
Who are you? What’s your
name?” Eli asked peering into the blackness.

“
I save your skin and now
you demand to know my name?” the man replied in an insulted, hushed
whisper as the commotion of guards echoed in the stairwell. “I
suggest you go—I would hate to see you use any more
magic
on your once
comrades.”

Eli wanted to know who this man was
and take him along. Looking at the Mogs who stood side by side as
if waiting for orders, reminded Eli for a split moment of his past
sentry days. That time was gone, and he had no one to blame but
himself. He had to save the man who helped him. He reached into his
pocket, but his disk was gone. Eli jerked on the cell door rattling
it until dust settled around them.

“
What are you doing?!” The
man yelled. “Go or you will be joining me!”

Reluctantly, Eli had to go to save his
own skin. He ordered the Mogs to go up the stairwell and take out
any sentry in the way. They seemed glad to do this as Eli turned
one last time to the man whose face was voided in
blackness.

“
Find her!” He yelled out
before retreating to the shadows. “Find Lil!”

Despite the urgency to leave the
prison, Eli was more intrigued to speak to the man rather than make
a quick escape.

“
Do you know her?” Eli
asked with no reply. The man was gone, absorbed into the darkness.
“I said do you know her?” The man appeared to have vanished into
thin air.

Eli had no choice but to leave the
ghost of a man behind. He knew her name, or actually, one of her
alias. Lil’s plot thickened the more he dug. Eli knew she wouldn’t
leave a straight path to find her. He wasn’t about to give up, no
matter how many twist and turns she threw at him.

Eli followed the Mogs bloody trail
until he reached the street above. More sentries would come, and he
ordered the two Mogs to run as fast as they could into the dreaded
Shimmerick woods. Not many would enter as all who did, were at the
forest’s mercy. Believed to be a gathering place of everything
evil, Eli knew different. It’s just a forest shrouded in mystery
and folklore. Once he was out of prison, he spent many nights there
in hiding and sure that those who were after him thought the forest
would take care of him, and they were right. Still steeped in
superstition, the sentries wouldn’t venture here. He could regroup
and make his plan with a new army.

Eli kept up with the Mogs until he
ordered them to stop. They stood side by side. Eli looked at them.
Their eyes were round and black, not silver disks of venom, their
tawny mane that encircled their lion- like face gently floated in
the breeze making it look silky and soft. Now, they looked like
somewhat gentle creatures, reasonable to deal with. With the help
of magic, that is.

Eli wondered about the man in the
dungeon and if he knew his intentions. The man must know Lil well
enough to know what he is after. He had vanished into thin air,
dissolved a very large Mog into dust and that could only point in
one direction as his identity—he had to be a sorcerer of some sort,
or maybe a warlock.

Eli didn’t have time to deal with it
right now. He had to find Lil, and his tracking machine stood
before him.

“
What does master want us
to do now?” One of the Mogs asked in a rough voice.

Eli gazed up at them. “I want you to
track the owner of this.” Eli took from his side pouch a leather
shoe, delicate and unadorned with a pointed toe.

The Mogs naturally good at tracking,
bent down took in a deep breath inhaling her scent that reminded
Eli of lilacs. He wasn’t sure if the Mogs interpreted her like
that, but he couldn’t help to think of how she felt in his arms.
Quickly, he put the boot away along with his remaining memories of
the past.

“
We know of her. She’s in
the Etherworld,” the Mog said.

“
The Etherworld?” Eli said
turning from them.

A distant land of Faeish past, the
Etherworld was a place they once thrived until magic was
discovered. It isn’t spoken of much and deemed an undesirable place
to spend much time in. Etherworlders are not the same creed of the
superior Fae. Fae are the holders of all magical implements and
therefore chosen, superior and unbreakable. It was the Fae who
controlled the magic. Etherworlders had no business with it. Their
ignorance and misuse of the element was put to a stop by the Fae
who hid it. The Fae used it to create their world sealed from
Ehterworlders. The rest is nothing more than myth and legend for
Etherworlders. A perfect place to hide, Eli thought with a curled
smile.

Lil was always associating with all
sorts of creatures and Fae society. She had many allies as well as
enemies. Eli felt he fell somewhere in the middle of that spectrum.
He had to push his feeling away, and focus on finding her and
making things right.

“
Take me to her.” Eli
commanded.

The Mog with the lighter mane smiled
slightly, grasped Eli by the back collar, and hoisted him up onto
his back. Eli nearly fell off the other side, and only managed to
hang on by clutching the beast’s fur.

“
Hang on Master!” The Mog
yelled jolting into the darkness of the low limbed
forest.

Eli had never ridden a Mog before but
knew to hang on tight. The sharp, precise movements around trees
and boulders were razor sharp. The Mog’s stamina didn’t quit until
sunrise. They stopped at the forest edge. Eli dismounted, his
muscles ached from hanging on so long, but it was worth it. He
looked over a ruined city he’d never seen before.

Ancient stones crumbled to the ground
in the quiet landscape that once looked as though it housed
hundreds of Fae in its deteriorating grand structures.

“
Where are we?” Eli asked
looking at the grey stones.

“
The First City,” The
lighter mane Mog said.

“
Arrinia,” Eli said
looking at the ruins, “The First City of Fae.”

Eli had never seen it, but heard of
its existence. It was the first city build by the escaping Faes
from the Etherworld. Magic ran wild creating the lands for them
that they learned to live in. Now, Eli was looking at a fabled
legend of Faeish past, and it was real.

“
Lil knew of this place
and never told me.” Eli clenched his fists controlling a ping of
anger that flowed through him.

“
She knows lots of
things,” the lighter mane Mog said. “The portal is over
there.”

Eli followed the Mogs extended talon
towards an arched stone sculpture. It sat in the middle of the
ruins, untouched by time or weather. Eli walked closer to it with
the Mogs behind him. There were no markings on the grey stones, but
something radiated from it.

Humming filled his ears, the ground
beneath his feet trembled slightly, Eli looked at the arch feeling
it was filled with life; almost a being of its own.

“
It leads to the
Etherworld.” Eli stated looking up at the oblivious Mogs. “We are
at a threshold between worlds.”

Eli shook his head at their blank
expressions. He couldn’t expect Mogs to understand what was before
them. Lil was there in the Etherworld and what she had he wanted
not only to save her, but destroy something before it blossomed.
Eli looked at the simple arch, the gateway to a world forgotten,
and now lived with the fables of its very own past.

“
Take me to her.” He
stated.

Eli again was placed on the back of
the Mog and before he could say a word, they jolted through the
arch with a blinding light into the Etherworld.

Lyssa

Lyssa Cleverthorn had never been to a
funeral before in any of her seventeen years. She’d never thought
of going to one either. It’s something that’s supposed to happen to
old people, not someone her own age.

The diminutive town of Briarwood,
Illinois was shaken to its core just a few days ago when a girl’s
body was found along the marshy banks of a slough off the
Mississippi River. She was badly beaten and almost torn to pieces
that dental records had been used for identification.

Rumors flew like squawking blackbirds
through town. Everything from drug trafficking to relations with
the mob, was speculated by the town’s people. The authorities
quickly came to the conclusion that it was a mountain lion
attack.

Mountain lions are the big rage now,
and said to be just a rumor, but large tracks had been found and
livestock attacked proved otherwise. The girl was simply in the
wrong place at the wrong time—a victim. The town where you could
leave your door unlocked at night or parents letting their children
run around freely, had ceased. A blanket of uncertainty had wrapped
around the community.

Lyssa dressed in a pair of black pants
and a crinkly black shirt, looked outside from her second story
bedroom window. She usually loved this time of year. Trees changing
into brilliant oranges, reds and yellows are the mark of autumn. A
grim presence had replaced the fondness she once had for this
changing season.

Stepping away from the window, she
looked at herself in the mirror. Lyssa pulled up her curly,
shoulder length, brown and very unruly hair with a rhinestone clip
allowing a few wild strands to hang freely. She put more powder on
her pale skin, and tried to cover the hundreds of thousand freckles
that she hated—every last one of them. Even when told they were
Angel Kisses by Zoey, her dad’s ex-girlfriend, couldn’t convince
her. No matter how much she liked Zoey.

The funeral wouldn’t start for another
hour. Lyssa plopped on her bed and looked up at the grey sky
through her skylight. She missed Zoey. Lyssa could talk to her
about anything just like a real mom.

Lyssa’s mother died when she was just
a tiny baby. A house fire claimed her, only Lyssa and her dad were
spared. With her mother gone before she even knew her, a black void
was always there waiting to be filled. She thought Zoey was that
filling, but like all the others, she left too.

Holding onto a worn out teddy bear,
Lyssa decided to comfort herself by going through her “moms” in
chronological order.

Julie was a teacher who helped her
through grade school, Samantha a hairstylist that showed Lyssa how
to do hair and make-up, Rebecca a chef that now has her own
restaurant in New York told her all things are possible if you want
them and gave her one recipe on how to make wicked good apple
turnovers. The last of her “moms” was Zoey—everything she ever
wanted in a mom.

Zoey had no special degree or
important job. She liked to sing, tell stories and go on walks. She
listened to Lyssa no matter how stupid it was or insignificant.
Zoey seemed to relish it, living each day as if it was the last
until one day it was.

A note left on the kitchen counter
explained unresolved issues from Zoey’s past had to be dealt with
and she’d be back soon. That had been a year ago. Lyssa didn’t hate
her for this. All of her “moms” left at one point, but she felt a
piece of her was gone, incomplete and left to die on the vine.
Lyssa would survive though, as she always did.

Her dad was what you would just call a
father figure. He didn’t play ball with her when she was little,
and barely made it to any school functions when she was in grade
school. He provided the necessary material things, but something
about him seemed distant.

He was never mean—just never there and
a perfect equation for the freedom every seventeen year old craves.
That would be great, but Lyssa wanted something more. She wanted
the connection that never sparked between father and
daughter.

Why couldn’t he have just hung on to
Zoey and she might still be here. Maybe he had so many girlfriends
for her benefit, to teach her things he couldn’t. Did he care that
much? Talking to her dad was like talking to the refrigerator. It
opened and the light was on, but it was always cold and just
functional—nothing more.

The hour of reflection had come to an
end, and Lyssa went downstairs. She put on her black wool pea coat
Samantha gave her. Every girl had to have one because it goes for
about every occasion Samantha told her. This was the first occasion
she was wearing it to. Lyssa then walked into the cool autumn air.
Grey clouds lingered refusing to give way to the brilliant blue
underneath it.

Lyssa’s house was on the edge of city
limits where it opened to the rural areas surrounding Briarwood.
Her rugged A frame house with a split rail fence was surrounded by
thousands of flowers, shrubs and other flowering things. Her dad
was obsessed with plants or actually whatever bloomed or had
leaves. She often wished her dad would treat her like he did his
plants—with love and nurturing. But Lyssa wasn’t a plant and had no
leaves.